Implantation
by Danizaya1
Summary: This is based on the K light novel WHITE & Black, involving Neko' s backstory.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: In a Warm Family, Together

It was a simple test, nothing too noticeable or pre-planned, one her father and mother barely paid any mind to it at all. However, if her parents had, she was sure they wouldn't have minded it all that much. It was simple, and harmless, nothing to get mad at or anything.

One minute, an old, grumpy man was complaining. Complaining to her parents about the odd-eyed child who kept staring at his baldhead and giggling at the shine that it seemed to emit. Meanwhile, her father was a friendly man who had just replied by saying, "She's young, and she doesn't know any better".

The old man was not satisfied with that, and started to talk even more rudely to her father. She did not like that. Not one bit. She could tell that her father began to grow uncomfortable, aggravated, even, by the way his jaw line tightened and his eyes narrowed. Her mother kept a strong, but gentle hand on her shoulder, and wearily watched the two men converse. The girl did not like it when her parents were agitated, they were nice people, and they did not deserve to feel bad about a grumpy man angrily speaking to them when it was _her_ fault.

Therefore, in response, she decided to make the old man go away. Now, the old man was not angry, he was baffled and confused. For some reason, a large cat as ornery as the old man was a minute ago was standing tentatively on his head. When the old man noticed, he tried shaking the cat off, calling it a "stupid cat", but the cat hissed at him and lightly scratched at his head.

Then it was gone, and the old man was nervous as ever and rushed – waddled with his cane – out of the store, brushing past the little girl and her father without another word.

"That's sad," her mother said. She looked at his daughter with a gentle smile. "That's why you have to be patient with old people, dear; sometimes they're confused by what goes on in their head. It isn't that man's fault he got angry or even started whacking at a cat that you and I wouldn't have seen." Beside her mother, her father nodded.

The girl nodded with a bright, energetic smile on her face. Her parents were happier and more relaxed again, and she felt good about being the one that made them that way. It was okay if they never noticed her ability; she liked it that way, because it made helping her father or mother even easier and made the girl feel even better.

She took hold of his father's hand, and another of her hands held her mother's, and guided them to where the fresh vegetables and fruits were, and at the same time, an idea sparked in her head. No wonder she thought of making a _cat_ appear. She looked up to her father, a hopeful gleam in her eye, and she asked him if he would read her _that_ story.

At first, her father seemed puzzled, but eventually, a knowing look sparked in his eyes and he nodded. He had to read her that story the she loved. The one with the cat, the cat named Neko. The story called _I am Neko..._

[Author's Note: The story, titled _I am Neko_ is, in Japanese, _Wagahai wa Neko Dearu. _"Wagahai" is a way of saying "I" often considered pretentious or 'high and mighty', and often attributed with cats.)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: On a Warm Day, Accompanied

Weeks and weeks pass, but the girl's love for that story still rest strongly in her heart and mind. Even now, in the sun's rays, resting idly in spring green grass with her eyes observing fluffy cotton clouds in the sky, she wanted it to be night already.

She knew she could easily make it _appear_ to be night; the time she always got the story read to her, but something that stopped her. It felt _complete_ – the story, that is - when it really was nice, instead of an artificial, temporary night that only she and her parents knew about. That's why she would wait impatiently for the sun to go down and the real moon to gleam at its brightest in the dark night sky.

Still, if she could, she would make time pass by faster. On the other hand, maybe she wouldn't, at least not for the night to come. It wouldn't be as rewarding.

Those thoughts slowly make her space out, and the most important thought that she settles on is that it's more rewarding to wait for something special, than to urge it to come earlier than natural.

That's the wholeness of night. It rewards the daylight hours of hard work and trouble with its leisurely wonders.

_"Mrrow."_

A light noise distracts her, and she shifts her head slightly to face a small, lithe cat staring at her intently. The cat's fur was long, fluffy, and as white as the clouds, and her eyes were a mossy green. They seemed to stare the girl straight into her soul, yet were unreadable all the same. They were bright, clear, like marbles.

The girl sat up, a curious, but content look on her face. She slowly, carefully raised her hand to let the cat sniff, and, to her surprise, the cat started to rub against her hand, a plain sign she was okay with being pet by the young girl she had just met.

Fine with just petting the cat, the girl started humming to herself, and the cat settled atop her lap, the bell on her collar jingling with every move she made. She was purring in response to the humming, like a sort of duet.

However, in the true nature of cats, the cat cuts the bonding short. The cat's ears perked up at miscellaneous noises, and soon decided she was bored with lying down and being pet. Left behind, the girl frowned slightly. If the cat was bored, she could try entertaining it.

She made birds appear, the same ones that were in illustrations of her favourite story. Cats liked birds, and the cat she pet was no different. The cat slowed down at the chirping, and pressed herself to the ground, like a tigress on the hunt. She made her slow way towards the birds, her eyes wide and alert.

To the girl's surprise, however, the closer the cat got, the less interested the cat was. Soon, she gave up the hunting position, and approached the clustered birds with less caution, before completely walking through them, and casually started to wash herself.

As she blinked, the girl stared on, her mouth shaped in a straight line, the lips parted only slightly. Was this just a coincidence? Did she make a mistake? Did the birds not smell like birds, or not sound like the birds they were supposed to be? Or was it something less noticeable to her, like the birds being transparent enough for the cat's careful eyes to notice?

This was important to the girl, so tried something different. The grass, covered in flowers, now appeared covered in catnip. Even she could smell the strong odour, so surely the cat would as well.

No, the cat continued washing herself, before getting up and walking into a bush and disappearing from the girl's sight.

This was not right, not to the girl. People fell for her illusions easily. Why wouldn't a cat, then? She was sure her powers were stronger than that. She was positive. These powers of hers were more than just illusions; she knew that, so what was it that made the cat think so?

Her powers could do more, she was sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: In the Lukewarm Play, Separated

It was supposed to be a normal check-up. Like any other one she got. Where the person responsible for her mental development would keep an eye on her and make sure she was healthy as usual.

Today, though, that was not the case.

This person, whom she trusted a great deal, came up to her with news today, between only her and themselves.

Their voice was gentle and soft, _painfully_ gentle and soft, as if they were speaking a glass-hearted infant. Something was not right, the girl could tell. This was not the normal, confident and friendly tone she familiarised herself with. This tone was bad, and had bad things to say, bad things she would not like.

In the person's hand, they had a photograph. It was a photograph of her parents and their child. The thing was that the child was not the girl. The child was not even a daughter. It was a son. A son younger than the girl, with matching coloured eyes.

The person said, in a slow, calm voice, that this _was_ their son. A very young son her parents lost quite some time ago. They also said, just as calmly, just as delicately, but firmly, that the boy was not related to her. He was not a dead brother she never met or heard of because of how delicate the subject was for her parents. He was not a half-brother or a stepbrother. Not even an adopted brother.

This boy was her parents' son, and nothing else. She was not related to him, not even by adoptive measures.

He was their son, and she was not their daughter. They were his parents, and were not her parents.

This was not her family, and she was responsible for making anyone think so. They engaged in this play, and it was her fault. She was the director, the producer, the costume designer, the make-up artist, everything a concept she had made up herself. Her 'parents' believed her only because she made them. Without realising it, she wiped any trace of their son from their mind and filled that void with herself.

They were not her family, and she was not theirs. The memories she conjured affected innocent people, and stole a part of them so that she could insert artificial memories and loves of her own for her own benefit.

That was not fair. The people who she thought of as family did not deserve to be deceived like this, intentional or not. It was not fair of this girl to take away their real family for her own, and she knew that. She knew it was not fair, and she knew she had to dispel the trick of hers for their sake.


	4. Final Chapter

Final Chapter: In This Cold Room, Alone

She stayed in her room. The room she once claimed for her own, but could no longer bring herself to consider hers. This room, this home, even the story she held to her chest, should not have ever belonged to her. This room, once a warm and comforting place, was no longer something she deserved.

The 'spell' she 'conjured' was no longer in effect. She only waited for the man and woman downstairs to take notice to the veil ripped from their vision. She waited, and she waited.

The room – the house – engulfed in silence, gave room for the shocked murmurings the girl made herself aware of from downstairs. She heard sobbing, angry, devastated sobbing, similar to her own, from the man and woman. The most of what they said was an incoherent, tragic mess, but there was at one word she could hear them say, and it was directed at her.

"_Monster."_

Monsters do not have families. They do not have mothers or fathers or siblings that they want to stay happy for as long as they live. They do not help people, they _hurt_ people. All along, the girl was hurting people. She had _been_ hurting people all along, and knowing that she did not know this until recently made it worse.

Monster do not have people in their lives, they were alone and unhappy.

The girl was alone, and she was unhappy. She could not live here anymore. She could not be happy here anymore.

The only thing she knew of that lived alone and was happy was the cat in her story. The cat that lived on its own and made the best of its day.

The girl did not want to be a monster, but the cat in her story, this cat lived alone and helped people instead of hurting them like she did. This cat had a much better life than she had. That life, the girl could somehow live.

That's right. The cat's life was a life she could live. She could do it, she was sure of it.

The cat was Neko. She could live like Neko.

She would be Neko.

She is Neko.


End file.
